Only Ashes
by Kalyiel
Summary: People change, worlds fall apart... What's left after destruction? Dreams? Love? Friendship? Draco must decide. Ginny must change. Harry must fight. What is it that links these three characters between them? OotP spoilers!UPDATED!
1. Old Memories

**Only Ashes**

Chapter 1 – Old Memories

Noise. Laughter. A bunch of people smiling and shaking hands. It was the same every year. At King's Cross, on Platform 9 and ¾, some were ready to walk on the train to Hogwarts and some were staying home and waving goodbye. Old friends and schoolmates were happy to see each other again, parents stood sad, but proud on the platform, giving their last advice to their sons and daughters. It was just the same every year, always just the same: the same people, the same gestures, the same words… Everything was unchanged, excepting Ginevra Weasley – Ginny, or Gin for short. Actually, she never was the same person as the year before. She never was the same person since meeting the famous Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. She had seen him for the first time just there, on the Platform 9 and ¾, five years ago. He was only a small, thin boy, with a messy black hair and a pair of broken eye-glasses. He had a very sad look on his face and he didn't smile at all. Right then, she had felt sorry for him, smiled at him and waved him goodbye. He hadn't even noticed her at the time. Then, the next year, when Ginny went for the first time to Hogwarts, she had had a crush on him – a huge one at that. She always blushed when near Harry, she always went clumsy and shy. But only until her third year – when she realized that other boys existed… like Neville Longbottom, or Michael Corner…

In her fourth year, Ginny had dated various boys from different houses. She had thought that she was over Harry. And she was. But she couldn't manage to stop that furious heartbeat she got every time when she saw him sad, when she heard him scream, woken up by a nightmare, or when she saw him cry, very late at night, gazing at the fire, as if he wanted it to burn up all his pain. She had talked to him more than once, telling him it wasn't his fault so many people had died – Harry wouldn't listen… And that… that broke Ginny's heart.

Now she was in year five, her terrifying O.W.L.s awaiting, and she was yet another Ginny - a Ginny that was afraid of long, dark hallways with laughing Death Eaters at the end of them; a Ginny that was determined to no longer live in the shadow of her older brothers; a Ginny who didn't want to love, because she thought love meant loss, and loss meant pain. It meant Harry's pain, Neville's pain, and, most importantly, her own pain.

* * *

The train was passing by villages and forests as if they were only illusions, only blurry images in a broken mirror. And it wasn't just because it was going very fast past them – Ginny's eyes were filled with tears, and she didn't even know why. The tears burnt her skin like streams of fire, sliding to her chin, then falling on the pages of the book she had been trying to read. She watched them falling, one by one, and with every falling tear she could feel that her heart became lighter, and lighter. She began asking herself if she could deal with this new Ginny she had formed inside, and if love could really be pushed away that easily. She was almost ready to wipe her tears and to come back to reality, when a slow, sweet music reached her hearing. There were the sounds of a guitar playing a sad love song, as Ginny supposed. Pushed further by curiosity, she left her lonely compartment, following the music. As she passed by students of different houses and different years chatting and sharing each other the latest gossip, she wondered if she was the only one hearing the heavenly music, if it was only a dream. Just as she was thinking this, she felt she was closer and closer to the source of the music, as she could hear the guitar sounds more loudly and clearly. She slowly opened the compartment door, her hand shaking, unable to create in her mind any face that would fit the singer, when she almost had a shock: inside was sitting one boy, alone, leaning over his guitar almost in pain, black, messy hair all over his face. Ginny gasped, the door creaked, and the boy raised his head – it was Harry Potter.

"Ginny! What are you doing here?"

"I… Can you really play the guitar?" the girl asked in wonder.

"Well… I… I… no… yes! I mean…! Yes, I can play the guitar…" he sighed, uneasy about revealing his new secret.

"It's… great! Angelic! But… where are Ron and Hermione? And… I thought you weren't playing any instrument…"

"Errrmmm… thanks… I learned how to play it during summer… You know… nothing to do, and I saw it in a shop while walking on the streets of London, I liked it, Lupin was with me and… he thought it was worth a try… Oh, and Ron and Hermione… Well… I thought they needed a little privacy…" Harry grinned, much to Ginny's amusement. "But hey, Ginny, have you been crying?"

The girl hurried to wipe away some of the tears still lingering on her face.

"N-no! Of course not! What in the world would I cry for? You know what I think: tears are just a loss of energy!" Ginny forced a smile.

Harry knew Ginny was lying, but what could he say to her when he himself to Ron whenever he caught him in a desperate phase?

"Oh, O.K., then." He smiled back absently, with his mind on those nights when he didn't dare to get out of his bed because he was afraid of the dark images that haunted him in his sleep.

"Errrrmmm… Would you mind if I stay? I'd love to hear you play some more…"

"Not at all, Gin."

* * *

While the music once again flew from the strings Harry touched, in the next compartment another lonely person with shady feelings kept away from the outer world was thinking of his life that far. Grey eyes seemed mist over the depths of soul, unspilt tears were heavy padlocks at doors that hid awful memories. Draco Malfoy was, for the first time in his life, wondering if that was how he really was, if that was how he was meant to be. He thought of his name – 'Draco' – what an irony, 'Dragon'… He was just like a dragon, breathing fire and turning everything in sight into ashes, just to protect a fake treasure, fake values that sustained his being, his acting, his understanding. But what if he would destroy all those fake values, forget all about them? No, if he'd do that his whole 'perfect' world would turn into a haunted castle.

**(flashback)**

"No, Draco! Please, don't do that! Your father will be furious if he finds out!"

"But he won't! I'm sure you won't tell him anything, mother!"

"Draco!"

"Oh, come on, it's just for this evening. I'll be back in no time! Please!"

"But you know very well your father said…"

"Yes, yes! But I can't stay locked inside the house all day long! I haven't done anything wrong and I had Dark Arts training with him every day! I deserve an evening out!"

Narcissa Malfoy was unsure whether she should follow the orders her husband was now accustomed to give to everybody, or whether she should just let her son have some fun outside the gates of the dusty old manor. After a few minutes of deep thinking, she had taken her decision.

"Very well, you may go… I won't tell a word to your father…"

"Thank you, mother!"

"Just make sure you get back in time!" she shouted her last words while Draco made his way out of the dormitory.

Six hours passed and there was still no sign of Draco. Narcissa began to feel worried. Lucius would be home very soon and if he wouldn't find his son, he would get extremely angry and who knows what could happen!

Heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway.

"Draco?" Narcissa asked hopefully.

"No, it's me." the answer came to her fright. "Where's my son?" the man's voice asked in turn as his hand pushed the door open. "Well!" he shouted while seeing the very pale face of his wife.

Draco hurriedly opened the door to the living-room downstairs, just in time to hear Lucius conjuring the Cruciatus curse and one sharp scream given out by his mother. He lowered his head and he tightened the grip of his fist. His hands were shaking uncontrollably and his eyes were aching.

**(end of flashback)**

As the Hogwarts Express continued its way over the swampy hills, in a lonely compartment a blonde young man tightened the grip of his fist at the remembrance of an evening some time ago.

* * *

**A/N:** Please REVIEW! Might be an OotP sequel, I haven't decided yet… REVIEW, anyway! 


	2. The Redhead

**A/N**: Thanks for the great reviews! Here's the second chapter! Hope you'll like it as much as the first one! D

* * *

Chapter 2 – The Redhead

_All the life_

_Spilling inside;_

_Words I can't hide_

_Cut like a knife…_

Ginny shred yet another piece of paper, throwing its remains into the fire she had lit earlier. It was Friday, early in the morning, first week of school, and all the other Gryffindors were still fast asleep. Thousands of emotions and questions without answers were making her feel insecure and she didn't like it. She kept trying to put everything away somehow, but no poem was good enough to do that.

"So, trying to answer the 'who am I' question?" the young man's voice took her by surprise.

"Not really. How come you're up so early in the morning, Harry?"

"Well, it's not very unusual after having a nightmare…"

Harry Potter's half-ironical tone couldn't fool Ginny.

"Seriously, Harry! Haven't you realized yet how much you need the Occlumency lessons? I know you loathe Snape, but he is right: Voldemort can take you out very easily if you refuse to concentrate as you should!"

"O.K.! Now you're annoying me…"

Ginevra was ready to give a harsh reply, but the sound of the door bursting open stopped her from doing it.

"Morning, Harry!" Neville Longbottom appeared in the doorway, still sleepy and yawning.

"Oh… Gin… Ermmm… Hi…" he mumbled at noticing the girl. Obviously her presence made Neville feel uncomfortable, as he refused to meet her eyes.

"Hi…" Ginevra replied, lowering her head.

**( flashback )**

"Listen, Nev, I'm really sorry…" a redheaded girl kept apologizing over and over again.

Leaning against a cold brick wall, a young man was gazing at the floor, desperately trying to stop a stream of bitter tears from bursting out at the first impulse.

"Neville, please…"

"Shut up! Don't make it even harder for me!" Neville said, angry about himself being so weak. "It's over! I got the message! I'll never be as smart, as good looking, as brave as Harry, or Dean, or even that Corner lad!"

"You know that's not what I meant!"

The young man's only answer was a furious gaze, full of pain. He felt miserable for being who he was, for being the way he was, for letting Ginny do this to him in the first place.

"Why did you even accept dating me?"

No reply came from the girl in front of him.

**( end of flashback)**

"Hey, Ginny! Gin!"

"Sorry… What were you saying, Harry?"

"Noting, what were you thinking of? Or who were you thinking of?" Harry grinned.

"Nothing… no one…" Ginny was only half-conscious of what she was saying. She had fixed her gaze on Neville, silently asking for forgiveness, but, as no reaction came, she decided it would be better for her to get out of the Common Room for a bit of a change. "I have to go to class!" she quickly explained to a puzzled Harry, unaware that there was still an hour and a half left until the beginning of classes that day.

* * *

She hurried out of the Gryffindor Tower, down the stairs, eventually realizing what time it was and slowing down on her way to the library. Still, she couldn't take her mind off Neville, so as she walked absently through the large hallway, she suddenly got knocked off by someone. She had no time to clear out her thoughts – he helped her get up as suddenly as he had knocked her off.

"Sorry for that." Ginny rose her eyes to find none other than Draco Malfoy standing in front of her and looking a little embarrassed.

"It's… O.K…." she mumbled, quite surprised. No 'get out of the way, Weasel-girl'? No 'look out, you're ruffling my expensive new robe'? No 'stupid little Weasley'?

"Errmmm… I've got to go now… See you around…' said Draco, seeming not to understand what was taking place in Ginny's mind and turning away from her as if nothing had happened.

Ginevra gazed startled at the young man's silhouette until it went out of her sight. Was she dreaming? A painful pinch on her arm showed her she was not.

* * *

Draco hadn't even truly realized it had been Ginevra Weasley the girl he had just knocked off. He was much too troubled by his inner life to actually notice anything about the outer happenings. He knew that he needed someone to help him put an order to his thoughts, that he needed a friend, someone he could trust, someone he could rely on. He started wandering what would have happened if Harry would have been his friend from the very beginning. He had thought Harry was a nice person that day, on Diagon Alley. If he wouldn't have been such a jerk – yes, a jerk – to Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, what would have happened? How would his life have been changed by that?

Slowly, before he could even get aware of it, Draco's thoughts had flown over to Ginny and he began asking himself why he had always been so mean to her. Along with his perspective on life, his feelings, too, began to change that moment…

* * *

**A/N:** Do you think I should have made this chapter longer? If yes, please say so in your review and I'll do my best to add more to it and update it. 


	3. Quidditch Tryouts

Chapter 3 – Quidditch Tryouts

Draco woke up in a very confused state of mind. He had only dreamt fragments of scenes and images of Harry, Crabbe and Goyle, Snape taking points from Gryffindor, Dumbledore asking him if he had anything to say to him, his father shouting, Ginny looking puzzled. He had a horrible headache and he felt all dizzy. His first reaction was to get up and reach for the glass of water on his night table. After drinking up even the last drop of water, he eventually got out of bed. He was completely numb after a week of actual torture and misery spent halfway between homework and inner-analysis.

"Damn me and all my stupid emotions! I'm supposed to act like a Slytherin, not like a Hufflepuff!" he spoke to himself in fake disgust. "At least it's Saturday…"

He gazed out on the window, spotting a bunch of red and gold silhouettes flying around on their broomsticks on the somewhat cold morning.

"The Gryffindor tryouts…"

After all the Quidditch events of the last year, Potter was the team Seeker again and, to nobody's surprise, its new captain. The Weasley-boy had remained the Keeper and was obviously improving, though Draco and his housemates hated to admit it. There were four empty positions in the Gryffindor Quidditch team at the moment: the two Beaters and two Chasers. It looked like Ginny Weasley would occupy one of the Chaser positions. Pushed by the curiosity of who would actually be the new players of the team, Draco quickly put on one of his emerald-green robes and literally ran out of the castle, up to the Quidditch pitch. He spotted a place beside an old oak tree, out of the players' view. Thus, he leant against the hard wood and continued to follow the movements of those who aspired to one of the positions. Draco watched as many boys and girls flew over and over on their broomsticks, trying to accomplish their assignments, but everything they did was futile. Out of all, Ginny was clearly the best, and the prettiest girl around, Draco couldn't stop noticing. Her fiery-red hair was fluttering in the wind as she successfully caught the Quaffle Katie Bell had tossed her way. Ten minutes later, the whistle blew, announcing a break and the re-receiving of Ginevra Weasley on the team, as a Chaser.

"Just as I thought…" Draco muttered.

To almost everyone's surprise, though, a voice other than the ones that had been shouting on the pitch until the present moment cried out loud:

"Am I late for the Chaser tryouts?"

Everybody, except a grinning redheaded girl, gasped, unable to believe their own eyes. There she was, standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch with her hands slightly shaking of nervousness, Hermione Granger.

"B-but, 'Mione… You've always said that Quidditch was… a loss of time and energy…" Ron mumbled, startled.

"Well, I've decided that some fresh air and exercise will do me well this year." she replied, gazing somewhat defiantly at everybody. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, she was wearing brand new Quidditch robes and she seemed decided to have a try… and win. Didn't she always win?

During the next half an hour, Draco was surprised enough to see that the once bushy-haired bookworm did a fairly good job as a Chaser. She had good reflexes, she was determined and promising. By the end of the tryouts, Hermione got the Chaser position and Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas had made it for Beaters. Eventually, the now sweaty Gryffindors went to have a shower after the surprising morning events, so Draco told himself it would be better if he went to do just the same.

* * *

Water was sliding down the young man's face. He wished that all those water drops were his tears, he wished he could let them go away, along with sweat, but he knew he couldn't. He felt numb right then, standing still under the jet of hot water. Draco was sick of all the thinking, of all the questions. He needed something that would lighten him up a bit… or someone… a girlfriend. Why not? After all, he was the most good-looking guy in his year and most of the girls were after him. He didn't feel much like having a crush on someone right now, though. Yet, out of lack of better things to do when taking a shower (provided that he thought singing was ridiculous), he started analyzing the faults and qualities of the girls he knew more or less. "Number one on the list: Pansy Parkinson. Number one on the list? Where did that come from?" Draco thought, cutting Pansy out of his imaginary list. "Number two…" he thought deeply, as he could find no Slytherin girl to fit his… tastes. "Cho Chang?" Draco started to consider the girls from the other houses. "Nah… She used to be with Potter. Don't want no leftovers from that Potty… Let's see now…". As he thought harder and harder, he tried to ignore Ginny's face, which kept popping into his mind. He had gone over the "she's-a-Weasley" thing; it helped nothing. No matter how hard he tried, though, Ginny's image would linger in his head. "O.K., O.K…." he ceased to his own insistences. "Gin is pretty, smart, outgoing, a great Chaser, and she went over Potter long time ago, which makes her even better. But… I can't… she can't…" Draco argued with himself, not sure whether to admit he really liked the redheaded girl or not.

* * *

"You did just great, Hermione!" Ginny congratulated her friend. "You're on the team now! A Chaser with full rights!"

Hermione blushed, her cheeks eventually becoming more red than Ginny's hair, if possible.

"Do you think Ron was… you know… impressed?" she whispered, even though there was no one to hear her.

"Impressed? Impressed! He was stupefied! You were GREAT! See? I told you our Quidditch practices would come in handy one day…" Gin grinned in a complice sort of way.

Hermione blushed again.

"So… did he ask you out yet?"

"Ask me out? No, he mentioned something about 'Hogsmeade' and 'pumpkin juice' in the Hogwarts Express, but nothing serious…"

"My brother can be so thick sometimes!"

"I wouldn't say 'thick'… More like… 'too shy'."

"Hermione, it's been four years and he still doesn't have enough courage to ask you on a date! He seems to fear you more than Voldemort!" Ginny seemed exasperated.

"Now, don't exaggerate!"

"And why don't YOU tell him you're crazy about him?"

"Are you INSANE?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Fine… just… fine." she said, aware that no means of persuasion could make Hermione decide to take any further step.

* * *

Harry's eyes were sparkling with amusement as he watched Ron walking from one side of the boys' dormitory to the other, gesturing and telling his friend the whole story about Hermione coming to the tryouts all over again, as if he hadn't been present to the whole event.

"… and she just walked out and…"

"Yes, Ron… I know…" Harry did his best not burst into laughter.

"Yes, but… a Chaser? Since when does she feel interested in Quidditch? I mean, she always used to say…"

"I know… Calm down…"

Ron gave his best friend a half-annoyed glare.

"HERMIONE GRANGER IS THE NEW GRYFFINDOR CHASER!" he yelled.

"I KNOW, I ACCEPTED HER ON THE TEAM!" Harry yelled in return. "Ron, I was VERY surprised, too, but you're overreacting… I don't get it! What's so bad in having Hermione on the team? She has just proven herself to be good at Quidditch, _and_ you two will get to spend more time together."

"_Ha, ha_…" Ron said ironically.

It was no secret, neither to Harry, nor to anybody else in Gryffindor, that his two best friends were in love head over heels with each other. The only ones who seemed to ignore this were Ron and Hermione themselves. They were both too shy to confess their feelings to each other, although they perfectly knew what the other's feelings were. A total mystery to Harry.

* * *

While five Hogwarts students were analyzing their emotions, outside the castle and very far away, in a place which seemed more proper for dead and damned souls than for living people, the Dark Lord had reunited his minions to explain matters of war. The trio would have, without doubt, smiled wryly at seeing all the Death Eaters in line, like first-graders at a school event. Voldemort called out their names as a teacher would've called out the names of his students to make sure they were all present. By reaching the name of 'Malfoy' he stopped.

"Lucius Malfoy…" the Dark Lord hissed in a cold voice. "I have asked you, as well as my other faithful servants, to raise your child in fear and respect for me…"

"So I have done, my Lord…" a hooded figure in the front line bowed.

"It seems you weren't very good at doing this, though, since I sense a feeling of slight rebellion whenever I test your son…"

It was very well known by the Death Eaters that Voldemort would test their old enough children through dreams made to fit a certain situation.

"I expect you to make sure that your son will be ready to serve me whenever I ask him to do so, Lucius…"

"Yes, my Lord."

* * *

**A/N:** What do you think? Not my greatest yet, but… REVIEW! 


	4. Between Walls and Thorns

Chapter 4 – Walls and Thorns

Crimson flames were sweeping away fears and hopes all the same; no dreams could survive the doom of a fire too real to be accepted. A fire which burnt more painfully than the one Harry Potter had lit in the fireplace. The flames he was gazing at seemed to go right through his eyes and to his heart. He doubted he even had a heart anymore: every day he put on a mask to fit what everyone else was expecting him to be. Defeat Voldemort…. How to defeat someone who is part of you, in one way or another? How to defeat your own death waiting by the corner? And how to defeat all the grief, all the feelings exploding inside? Harry suffered from a disease he could find no cure to: disbelief. He didn't, he couldn't believe in himself. Not after all the deaths that took place because the Dark Lord tried to destroy Harry. Maybe Voldemort wasn't even aware of the fact that he had already destroyed his worst enemy.

Tear by tear slid down Harry's cheeks, stream of bitterness held inside for too long; and no one there to hold his hand, no one there to encourage him, no one there to look at him in sympathy, no one there to care for him… or, at least, that was what he thought, for in the doorway stood Ginny Weasley, watching him as he ceased to lock away his darkest and deepest emotions.

"You shouldn't run away like that, you know… Run from _us_… It's no use…"

The young man shuddered and rose his head in surprise. At first, he was quite shocked, not knowing what to do, but then he quickly wiped his tears, not daring to feel ashamed, though. As if reading his thoughts, the girl said:

"You shouldn't be ashamed that you cry. It doesn't matter you're a boy. We have feelings, all of us, and you're probably the one with the greatest right to cry."

"I'm not ashamed… and I'm not proud, either. I only needed to put all my masks away for a little while… for tonight."

"How about getting rid of all those masks for ever?" Ginny asked, moving closer to him.

Harry smiled wryly. "I'm not sure it's worth it. I'm not sure anything's worth it anymore."

"Not even living?"

"Especially living. What for should I live?"

"To…"

"No." Harry jumped from his armchair and hushed Ginny with a finger, knowing exactly what she wanted to say. Their noses could almost touch now; the young man leant over the redheaded girl and whispered: "Voldemort has defeated me already…" Slowly, he took a step back, lowering his head in sadness, feeling that tears were filling his eyes again. He expected Ginny to reproach him what he had affirmed, but the girl stood still like a statue, apparently waiting for something. After a few seconds of heavy silence, Ginny eventually shook her head as to wake up from a dream and Harry rose his head again, a question lingering in his eyes.

"What is it?" the girl asked somewhat hopefully. The young man struggled inside for a moment, slightly moved his lips, trying to form a reply, but the only thing he said was "Nothing." Quite disappointed, Ginny placed her right hand on his shoulder.

"I want to help you. Please, let me do so…"

Harry felt miserable and useless. He didn't want to accept that he really needed someone to help him deal with himself.

"You can't help me." he turned his back on her. This provoked a struggle inside the girl, too. A struggle between feeling powerless, angry and disappointed. She was unsure whether to insist in helping him, turn back and leave and slip on the floor and cry. As Ginny let out a sigh, Harry realised he had upset her, so he faced her once again. Meeting her exasperated gaze, he half-smiled and made her a proposition:

"Giny… How about letting go all these sordid matters for a few minutes and do something pleasant instead?"

"Something… pleasant? What?" she asked, puzzled.

The boy gave a full smile this time and pulled out his wand. "Accio guitar!" The redheaded girl started to laugh, amused. When he had his guitar in his arms, Harry sat on the floor, beginning a half-sad, half-animated song. Ginny let herself slip beside him, softly leaning on his arm, singing herself to the melody much familiar to her.

_If you want to,_

_I can save you,_

_I can take it away from you…_

_So lonely inside, so busy out there,_

_All you wanted was somebody who cares…_

* * *

_I didn't know that_

_You were so cold and_

_You needed someone to show you the way…_

_So I took you hand and_

_We figured out that When the time comes, I'll take you away…_

The lyrics of a muggles' song that Draco had once heard echoed through his mind. He was unable to sleep after reading the letter he had received from his father, so he just laid still on his bed, in the darkness, his head feeling heavy, filled with thoughts and memories he would've rather not had. Lucius was asking him to prepare for a meeting with the Dark Lord, and that meant Voldemort was doubting of him. He'd be lost if he went to the meeting, but not going would also mean peril…


	5. Surrounded by Coldness

Chapter 5 – Surrounded by Coldness

The mid-autumn days were as cold as they yet could be, their coldness defeating all material boundaries, casting their numbness and illness over the minds and souls of whoever happened to be foolish enough as to face them. People like Harry. His heavy cloak wasn't warm enough to keep him away from the freezing wind, nor his will strong enough to stop him from considering options of death. He walked forth, heading to the lake, out of no obvious reason, occasionally kicking muddy rocks out of his way. He kept his hands in his pockets and his gaze on the fallen leaves, careless of school, Quidditch and even the upcoming war. Careless of his own being. Careless of the sounds he didn't even bother to perceive – someone was running towards him. He didn't even feel when a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Harry? Are you O.K.?"

The answer came surprisingly sharp and cold. Monosyllabic.

"No."

The girl stepped in front of him, quite disappointed of his reply. She gazed in his eyes as she usually would've, aware that they would show her what had really happened in the heart of the young man. Their sight stroke her: the emerald-green color, the spark of hope, fear, suffering – feeling – was gone; instead had appeared a watery shade of turquoise… and an almost blank stare… a stare of ice…

"Harry!" Ginny gasped. "What in the world is wrong!"

He ignored her, continuing his solitary walk. Ginny didn't give up, though.

"Harry James Potter!" she shouted in his direction. "I have no such idea as of what on Earth has happened to you, but do not dare pass by me like that, as if I were a mere plant or something!" she went furious.

The young man stopped and turned his head around, finally giving a sign that he had noticed Ginny.

"What do you want?" he asked in an annoyed voice.

"What do I want! Harry, what is wrong with you! What happened? Did you have any of those dreams again?" she walked closer to him.

"No."

"Is this the only word you can pronounce?" she got annoyed, too.

He didn't bother to answer. His reply, though, was more surprising, unusual and unmotivated than any other reply he might've given. Harry pulled her violently towards him, so violently that she fell in his arms. He embraced her almost furiously, his grip on her body becoming painful. The young man's next move was to suddenly lean over her, literally crushing her lips between his own in his attempt to kiss her. Ginevra gathered all her forces and pulled herself away from his grip and his insane kiss. She raised her hand to her lips in horror, noticing that some small drops of blood slid from her lower lip.

"I don't know what has gotten into you…" she said in a low voice, her face red with fury and stupefaction, "…but you're obviously insane! I don't recognize you anymore, Harry Potter!" Thus, she turned her back on him, hurrying to the castle.

Harry watched her walking away and he said, also in a low voice, as a reply to her words:

"I was only trying to see if I could feel something… anything… anymore…"

* * *

His heart beat desperately and his hands were shaking in terror. Each step he took was a torment. Each gesture, glance, or word of his father was a punishment. Draco and his father were heading to the old manor which served as a hideaway to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He had had to go. Try to escape from this would have been futile. He climbed the steps through a claustrophobic corridor up to the dusty attic. As he walked in, he could see nothing – it was a dense darkness, along with a poisonous air which made Draco choke. Lucius pushed his son forward, to the front line of now murmuring minions. The young man could now see something which awkwardly resembled a pair of glowing, red eyes.

"Aaaaaahhhhh… Here'sssss the little Dragon… Afraid, aren't we?" a voice coming from the direction of the red eyes hissed. Draco had paralyzed on his spot.

"Say something, you idiot…" Lucius whispered in his ear.

"Errrrrmmmm… I…" the boy mumbled.

An icy laughter broke out. "Yessssss… afraid, my little one… Fear isss good for people your age…"

Draco felt something – some long, scorched fingers clutching tightly to his forearm.

"And ssssoon… _here_…" the Dark Lord said, tightening his grip on Draco, "will be a nice ssssign that will unite usssss two for _ever_…" the icy laughter burst out once again.


	6. Us Two

**A.N.:** Chapter 6, AT LAST! Hope you enjoy it! Read and review, please! I feed on reviews!

Shadowy Corner, your reviews were great! Thank you very much! And I have nothing against constructive criticism:) I welcome it, actually!

* * *

**Chapter 6 – Us Two**

_I gaze into your eyes… They're beautiful, those jade green eyes, flickering with anger, sparkling with love… Either full of innocent light, or dimmed by dark shadows of sadness, they're beautiful, my love… beautiful and calming… Why do you flee from me? Why do you hide your look in fade notebooks and papers? You can't understand… You can't understand that all my power stands in the warmth of your gaze… Oh no, my angel, you can't understand… and you lower your head, avoiding the questions in my eyes…_

And how I'd wish to seize your lips with my own… But you clutch them, locking all your emotions under the placid mask of a grimace. That's when I bite my own lips, restraining them from caressing yours…

_I feel like crying, and I run away… You can't understand… You think I'm running away from you, but it's myself whom I'm running away from… I stare out the window, fixing my gaze on a dead leaf… I feel like crying… Tears come to my eyes, burning holes deep inside my soul… You can't understand why I'm crying… You never will…_

_'Why do you like hurting yourself?' you ask, your voice trembling, glaring over my shoulder, avoiding my gaze, feeling hurt, knowing you're the one hurting me… That's when your words tear my heart into small pieces…_

_'Why do other people have to tell you what you've got to do?' your voice dies out, your whole being showing pain and renunciation… That's when life loses meaning to me… because you can't understand… because you ask me to give up… because you can't understand that you're asking me to give up on myself…_

_My love, why can't you accept the fact that I'm yours, that away from you I'm only a damp body, a lost soul? … You can't understand…_

_I want to hold your hands, to clutch tightly to your warm body, to cry right then, right there, in your arms… But you turn away and I feel like falling on my knees, allowing the earth to claim my blood and flesh… But the earth has no right upon that which is yours… So I simply cry, blind to anything else than your fading silhouette, deaf to anything else than the echo of your voice, recalling your sour scent…_

_But that, my small angel, you can't understand… Can you?_

Ginny would cry… Cry like crazy, cry for hours, cry locked up inside a cubicle in the deserted ladies' room, which now only the gloomy specter of Moaning Myrtle would visit from time to time, to commemorate the brief moment of her own sad death…

Ginny would cry and yell at a Harry that only existed in her mind… She'd yell at a Harry Potter with broken spectacles and vivid green eyes… She'd yell at _her_ Harry, and it felt like yelling at herself… But the figure hunting the school grounds was not her Harry Potter. Not the Harry Potter she used to know, at least. It was just a boy with a messed-up mind.

Ginny would cry and cry and her tears would fall on the fragile piece of parchment she was holding on her knees. And her sobs were louder and louder as she wrote with the beautiful, black muggle pen Harry had given her on her last birthday. Ginny always took it with her, everywhere she went, along with a piece of parchment. Because she always needed to write. She'd write during boring History of Magic classes, during Quidditch matches between other Houses, during breakfast and dinner. She'd write about spring and autumn, about Ron and Hermione, about a pair of gorgeous green eyes… She _always_ wrote about those eyes… But she would have never thought she'd write about how those eyes made her cry, about how those eyes were cold and merciless.

"I'll never forgive you…" she whispered faintly, closing her eyes, kicking the wall with her right foot, knowing she would never in fact be angry with him.

"I despise you, Harry Potter…" she murmured, knowing she shall forever adore him.

"I love you, you fool!" she yelled, and then her mind went blank.

Moaning Myrtle watched the girl from above, in silence, regretting she had never truly loved during those years she lived. The ghost just floated there, at the height of the ceiling, for the first time not moaning, for the first time not speaking, for the first time looking sad for something else than having died.

Ginny hadn't noticed Myrtle. She hadn't noticed her hair sliding out of her ponytail, falling wild on her shoulders, covering part of her face. She hadn't noticed her parchment was now soaked in her tears. She hadn't noticed she was touching her lips with the tips of her fingers.

"I had never imagined our first kiss would be like that…" she said to herself, smiling wryly. "But now at least I have my kiss…" she added, her voice exploding into a nervous laughter.

* * *

"Stupid, stupid, STUPID! Fool, fool, FOOL! You great NUTCASE!" Harry stepped hurriedly and heavily along the deserted hallway, hitting his head with his fists, having a row with himself.

Not at all interested in the red ruby eyes that stared at him menacingly from the white marble statues lined along the walls, the skinny young man passed like a living storm through the silent castle… much too silent castle. In moments like that, Harry didn't need silence – actually, it even frightened him at some point. He needed a couple of cheerful pals offering him a small glass of Butterbeer, telling him all over again that "women are nothing than trouble". That's what he needed to hear – something awful about Ginny, something to transform all his guilt into a feeling as low as disgust. He was a coward this Harry Potter. Yes, he was a coward when it came to girls, and he admitted it.

"You bastard!" he muttered to himself, wishing he would have thrown himself into the icy waters of the lake when he had had the opportunity. "Bastard."

Images, lots of blurry images were racing through his head, and all of them, absolutely _all_ of them were the images of Ginny: Ginny waving him good-bye from the platform, Ginny, blushing at the Burrow, Ginny laughing, Ginny dancing with Neville at the Yule Ball, Ginny snogging with Michael Corner, Ginny running away, frozen leaves cracking under the pressure of her feet… It had all been about Ginny, all along, and he hadn't even known it! Now he realized it, because there, on the edge of the lake, then, when he was sure he had no feelings of no sorts anymore, right then and there --- he had felt… felt like never before, felt like being reborn from his own ashes. That's what he had felt when he had kissed the poor girl so violently. And now he was afraid his last flame had consumed Ginny, too, burning her wings, leaving her empty.

Harry didn't know what to do, like he never knew what to do when he made a mistake and found himself all alone, facing it. Reaching the end of the hallway he was hesitating whether to go find Ron or Hermione and tell them what had happened, or look for Ginny and fall to his knees to ask for forgiveness. But his choice was soon made when a high-pitched voice yelled from behind him, from where the tall, gray wall sustained the ceiling:

"Potter, you miserable ass, MOVE your stinking legs to that poor CREATURE!"

"My-Myrtle?"

"YES! Now go deal with poor Ginny, you GIT! Men are all the same…"

"B-but where is she?" Harry asked in a faint voice.

"In my bathroom of course! Now GO!"

And Harry didn't need another word. He raced down the stairs which, unfortunately, started to move just when he was reaching the floor he had to go to, so he made a foolish jump, got a few scratches in the process and raced again up to the deserted bathroom at whose door he stopped to catch his breath. He then slowly pushed the door, cautiously stepping in.

Inside the round room he could hear silent sobs, coming from a cubicle in front of him. Harry felt his heart racing and he knew what he had to do to catch up with it. He carefully stepped forward, the sound of his feet on the floor seeming so disturbing to the almost silent place.

"Gin...?" he got himself to ask in a low, trembling voice, while opening the small door of the cubicle. The image in front of him made his mind collapse: he'd never seen a scared Ginny with puffy, red eyes and torn robe before. And Ginny herself had never seen such a confused Harry previously.

"Ginny, I..."

"Sorry, sorry..." the girl mumbled, jumping up on her feet, pulling her hair back in a messy ponytail and readjusting her clothes, all in the blink of an eye.

"Sorry for what? I'm the one who must apologize!" the young man looked down, ashamed, surprised, consumed. Shattered.

"I overreacted. You... you shouldn't have seen me like this..." it was Ginevra's turn to look down, afraid to catch his eye.

"I'm so sorry!" Harry burst out and reached for her, still avoiding her gaze, his cheeks burning red, his heart racing faster.

Ginny hesitated. She wanted to run away, but she didn't. She just fell into his arms like a desperate, clutching tightly to his clothes and sobbing as if Heaven and Hell had collapsed upon her.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, clinging to his chest as for dear life.

"Ginny... My Ginny..." he felt tears coming to his eyes, he felt so ashamed that he was letting her apologize again and again when the fault was his. "My Ginny, please, stop crying... Let's get you out of here..." he placed one arm around her shoulders and slowly guided her away. Away from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, away from themselves and away from that painful day... Simply away...

* * *

"Ron..."

"Hermione..." the young man said matter-of-factly.

They'd been staring at each other for at least five minutes now, none of them able to speak out any words. But maybe they just didn't need any. Both of them knew what they were there for. Each knew what the other wanted. So why bother to speak, when you can simply stare?

"I can't do this..." she said, almost turning away.

"But I can." He grasped her arm, pulling her closer. Way closer. She stared. And gasped.

"I think I... I..."

"Me too..."

Their lips came together and they stood like that for what seemed like ages... They were each other's.

* * *

Draco was all alone in his dormitory and silence hurt him like he never thought it would. He held his head in both his hands...

"No, no, NO!"

Visions of the Dark Lord kept coming back to his mind and he couldn't send them away. It was all torturing him, his meeting with Voldemort coming back to him, maddening him.

"I don't want to live this life... I don't want to live this life..." he repeated to himself, maybe to break the silence, or maybe in sheer despair.

_"...usssss two for ever…"_ Those words made Draco want to disappear. Those words were terror. Draco knew what a Dark Mark meant. And he wasn't going to let them give him one... at _all_ costs.


End file.
